Wings On Fire
by Duchess of Night
Summary: The second rebellion of Panem has failed. Everyone who was part of the rebellion has been spared for one reason only; so they could watch the Capitol punish everyone they love. Let the 76th Hunger Games begin.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, this was an idea I got at like 3:00 in the morning and I thought it was so rocking fantastic that I had to write it. So please tell me what you think, I'd love to hear it. :)**

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Wings On Fire: Prologue – Cinna's POV

Cinna looked up as the doors of his cell swung open with an ominous clank. He closed his eyes as someone flicked on the harshly bright overhead light. When his eyes adjusted, Cinna looked up again and slowly blinked at President Snow.

"Well, this is a surprise," Cinna croaked. President Snow had never come to question Cinna in the days…weeks…months? he had been imprisoned in this stinking Capitol hole. Cinna couldn't remember how long it had been sense he transformed Katniss into the mockingjay.

"I suppose I should be honored," he continued, "But, I'm not."

A peacekeeper guard Cinna hadn't noticed stepped from behind Snow and slapped him in the face with his metal studded glove. The blow hurt, but Cinna wasn't about to show it. He had long sense stopped caring about the pain. As long as the mockingjay was safe, Cinna could take anything they threw at him.

Cinna spat a mouthful of blood down at Snow's boots. The peacekeeper raised his hand again but Snow shook his head.

"Now, now Cinna, that is no way to treat the man who brings you freedom," Snow said with false joviality.

Cinna looked at the other man with undisguised incredulity and hate. "You can't expect me to believe you?" he scoffed, "Sir, _you're_ the reason I've been held here."

Snow waved his hand, "All in the past, I've decided to give everyone known to be part of the rebellion a pardon."

"Why?" Cinna said sarcastically. "So you can kill us all on national television? No thanks, I'd rather eat nightlock."

"Nonsense, you're free, all of you!" Snow smiled with his puffy snake lips. As he spoke Snow motioned for the peacekeeper to release Cinna.

"Please, there's got to be a reason," Cinna said as he massaged his wrists. "You've never let prisoners go unless you're going to kill them in the night. So what is it?"

"Oh, yes there is a reason," Snow said patronizingly. "You see," he continued leaning down over Cinna, "you're rebellion has failed. The Capitol is still in control. District 13 is gone, permanently this time. You have failed, and I need to make an example. I need to make sure that nothing like this ever happens again."

"So…you're sparing us?" Cinna said trying his best not to be sarcastic, "Don't you think that's a bit, I don't know, counterproductive?"

"Ah, no, not at all my dear Cinna," he said with a puffy-lipped smile, "You see, I am sparing you to show how kind and good the Capitol is. The people of the districts will wonder why they ever tried to overthrow us."

"But you're killing their children!" Cinna cried, "You destroyed District 12! Why would they believe you're "goodness"?"

"Yes, but that was not my decision," Snow said, "I agree with it, but the Hunger Games will be the only reminder of the rebellion. In a way, it will be like you're rebellion never happened. We're even rebuilding District 12. The people will believe all has been forgiven."

"So what? All the people you're keeping prisoner here will run off into the sunset never to be heard from again?"

"Oh no!" Snow gasped seeming absolutely horrified by the idea. "I want you, your prep team, the other stylists an the victors to return to the Hunger Games. You will watch them, you will celebrate them, you will pretend to love them. You will watch all of your loved ones die in the games, and you will have helped them die without ever trying to help them live.

"You can try to start a rebellion again. You can flaunt the fact that you almost overthrew the Capitol. As long as you stay with the games I don't care what you do. And do you want to know why I don't care?"

Cinna gulped and nodded knowing that even if he didn't Snow would continue.

Snow crouched down so he could look Cinna directly in the eyes. "I don't care because there is nothing you can do to hurt us anymore. You have failed, Cinna, and now there is nothing you can do to change that. You can make another mockingjay, and no one will care anymore. They will see you as a symbol of the Capitol's generosity. And then, when you least expect it, all of you who were part of this horrible misunderstanding will vanish one by one until there is nothing left to remind people of this rebellion. So, you see I have won, you have lost, and nothing you do can save you now. So, go ahead, design your pretty cloths. Try to make another victor. Only know that you will fail. You will _always_ fail." With that, Snow got up and walked out of the cell motioning for Cinna and the peacekeeper to follow him.

Cinna took a deep breath trying to rid his nose of the smell of blood and roses that always seemd to hang around Snow.

"Get up," the peacekeeper intoned dryly. Cinna shook his head and got creakily to his feet. The peacekeeper gently but firmly grabbed his arm and escorted him out of the cell and down the hall after Snow.

Snow leads Cinna out of the prison building and into a car with darkened windows. Cinna didn't say a word. He still felt like a prisoner even though there were no handcuffs and the peacekeeper had let go of him. The only thoughts running through his head were thoughts about what happened to Katniss and what went wrong with the rebellion. How could he just watch the games like he did when he was a child? How could he just turn a blind eye again? He couldn't, he knew that. No matter what happens from now on, he will overthrow the Capitol, even if he dies in the process. _Look out, Snow. _He thought with a hard smile. _Look out because when the time is right, I will destroy you. You and all you stand for._

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**A/N: So, what did you think? Please let me know in a review or message. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yay! Chapter 2 is finally here! Sorry for the late update, but I had to get things in order and plan and figure out names and finish school and find my motivation to write again. But, I found it and got everything sorted out that needs sorting out, so we're all good now.  
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**Thanks so much to my lovely reviewers: _GoldenMockingjay, .Cookie, XellinaInverse, anon, CosPalp, Queen's Clasher, and Caught In The Attic_. You guys are super special awesome!**

**XellinaInverse**: No, Coin will not be in the arena, but don't worry I have something special planned for her }:]

**Queen's Clasher**: No, it doesn't sound mean? I like where it's going too, that's why I'm writing it :)

**Hope you all enjoy :)**

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Wings On Fire: Chapter 1 – Nina's POV

I woke at dawn the morning of the Reaping. Well, as I did every day to tend the solar panels. I sighed and reached out for my sister Finch before reality came crashing down around me. Finch was dead. She died in the 74th hunger games killed by the Capitol and a handful of poisonous berries. I closed my eyes and stretched out in the bed my sister and I once shared. It always seemed to large now that she was gone. Often I had woken to find myself curled into a ball as if to make room for the sister that wasn't there anymore.

I sighed again and opened my eyes. In the early morning light I could just make out my parents sleeping together on the other bed. They always seemed so young when they slept, and I found it difficult to believe that they had lost a daughter in the Hunger Games nearly two years ago. With an internal groan I got out from between the nice warm sheets and padded over to the alarm clock the Capitol allows my family so we won't forget to tend the solar panels. I switched it off so it wouldn't wake my parents. _Might as well let someone get some extra sleep,_ I thought as I grabbed my threadbare robe and shoes.

I silently slipped out of the house and through the fence of my family's part of the Sun Farm as we called it. I unlocked the control shed and walked inside flicking on the lights. The dull yellow lights flickered on after a moment illuminating the control panels on one side and the maintenance tools on the other side. I strode over to the control panels flipping the switch on each one to full power. I looked at the readings and frowned. Panels 8 and 12 were sticking again. They would have to be adjusted manually.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my tool box. The Capitol uses our solar panels to power their city, so you'd think that they'd send us panels that actually work. But, no, we're lucky to get our tools updated once a year. And forget about new panels when you ask. Some of these panels have been in use for nearly twenty years and glitch if you so much as look at them funny. Panels 8 and 12 were two of those panels. Before I headed outside, I looked back at the control panels just in case anything else was going wrong. As I had feared panels 9, 11, 15 and 23 were also sticking. I glared at the lights on the panels daring another one to break. Number 21 took my dare.

By the time I left the shed two more panels had stuck and I had decided to tune them all up. Despite what my parents might have said, I enjoyed working on the panels. It gave me something to do with my hands, and that was always a good thing because it kept my mind off of all the horrible things that had happened in the last two years. However that was not the case today. I kept thinking of Finch killed in the Hunger Games…My parent's spiral into depression after she died…The victory tour with the thinly veiled grief and unrest. The uprisings a few months later…The Quarter Quell and all that fallowed…The brutal months of war…My parents' transformation into rebel leaders…The reinstatement of the Hunger Games…My parent's grief…The Reaping today…The fear that I might get picked…

I shook my head trying to clear all the nasty horrible thoughts away. But it was no use, no matter how hard I tried to fill my head with happy thoughts, I couldn't. The nasty horrible thoughts would not be turned away. So instead I let them take me where they wanted to take me. I thought of the time before the Hunger Games when Finch and I were as close as two sisters could be and I still believed in the existence of good in everybody. I thought of how devastated we all were when Finch was picked and how that was when I stopped believing in the goodness of people. I thought of our raised hopes when we thought she could win. But most of all I thought of how grief stricken we were when she stole those poisoned berries from that Melark boy from 12.

Just so everyone knows; I do not like the Melark boy. I didn't blame him for killing my sister; at least, not anymore, but I did not like him. There was something in him that was just…too good, too pure, and I didn't trust him because of it. Like I said, I am done trusting the goodness of people.

By the time I pulled myself out of my moody thoughts it was nearly ten o'clock, the solar panels were all tuned up, and I was late for breakfast…again. With a mental sigh, I ran back to the toolshed, deposited my tools and gave the control panel a final glance. Good, everything was working at full capacity. Before anything else could break, I turned off the lights and dashed back to the house with my eyes quenched shut as if that would keep everything from breaking. As far as I knew, it worked.

I finally had to open my eyes when I ran face first into the back door of our house. Ouch. I opened the door with one hand while rubbing my soar nose with the other. I blinked my watering eyes and saw my mother at the kitchen table eating our usual breakfast of boiled Tessera grain, yuck, but at least it was food that I could eat. I was starving.

"Hey," I said to my mother, "Did you save any for me?" I tried to make a joke, but it fell flat, oh well, might as well try.

"Yeah, and there's an egg in the pan, too."

Wow, an egg! That was a rarity, and an expensive rarity at that. "Thanks," I said walking over to the stove where the egg and my share of the grain mush were both being kept warm by the lid to our biggest pan. I uncovered it and asked, "Is there salt?" My mother looked up and nodded.

A quick word before I go any further. My parents and I aren't really close. We haven't been ever sense Finch's games. We're better than we used to be around each other, but it's still not what it used to be. Now it's like three people sharing the same space, doing whatever is needed to survive and live together without too much friction. Most of the time it was fine, but on days like today, things were a little tense.

I picked up the salt container and sprinkled a little bit of the precious white powder onto my now congealing egg. Salt was something we could only get a few times a year, and I cherished it as much as I could. I brought my food over to the table and sat down across from my mother.

We ate in silence for several minutes until my mother unexpectedly broke the silence. She said, "I put your Reaping outfit on your bed, and I got the gel out."

"Okay, thanks," I said then added in a softer voice, "Will you help me with the gel? You know how bad my hair can get."

She looked up at me, surprised, "Sure, just let me finish."

I nodded and finished my own food. Where was this coming from? I hadn't asked my mother for help in over two years. I suppose I shouldn't hold her coldness towards me personally since she is cold to everyone now days even my father, but I did and I still do hold it against her.

I got up and put my plate in the rusty old sink, I would wash it later when my hands weren't shaking so hard from nerves. I walked the short distance to the bedroom and came over to my bed where I stopped short. Lying on top of the covers was a brand new dress made of mint green cotton. The design was simple enough with a halter top, a white ribbon belt and loose skirt that fell to my knees, but it also managed to convey a sense of grace and elegance. Next to the bed was a pair of white sandals that would lace up to just above my ankles. I gasped, it was beautiful and I didn't even want to think about how much it must have cost my parents. The hair gel my mother insisted on buying every year was bad enough, but this…this was so much more than that. This was something rich people did, and we were by no means rich.

"What do you think?" my mother asked from the door.

I jumped. I had been so mesmerized by the dress I hadn't noticed her come in. "It's beautiful," I said honestly. "But don't you think it's a bid much?"

"Well," she said, "if my only daughter is going to go to the Capitol, she should look her best. And besides," she added seeing the look on my face, "the thing you usually wear has been washed to rags. Your father and I thought you deserved something nice."

I could see she was nervous and about to cry, so before she could say anything else, I threw my arms around her neck just like I used to when I was younger and my mother's arms meant safety.

"Thank you, mother," I said into the hair by her ear. "I love it; I'll be the best dressed girl in the square with this."

Gently she pulled away from me and smiled into my eyes. "You think so?"

"Definitely," I said returning the smile. "Thank you."

Five minutes later I was sitting in front of our dirty and scratch mirror while my mother tried to get my unruly blonde curls into some semblance of order. It took her almost forty-five minutes and about half the bottle of hair gel to manage it. But by the time she was done my hair cascaded over my shoulders and half way down my back. With the green dress on, the effect was quite nice to look at.

"I can't believe you did it," I said with a smile. "You actually got my hair to cooperate with you."

"So I did, but that took a lot more time than I was expecting," she said looking at the clock. "You'd better get down to the circle, remember check-in starts at eleven o'clock, and you don't want to be late."

I grimaced remembering what the Peacekeepers did to the last kid who was late. "Thanks mom," I said giving her a quick hug. "I'll see you and dad after the ceremony, okay?"

My mother gave me a small smile and nodded. "Okay."

I gave her another quick squeeze before letting go and running out the door. As I left, I got this strange chill like that would be the last time I saw my mother. I shook my head and dismissed it as nerves. I really, _really_ wish I hadn't.

I arrived about fifteen minutes before the final check-in and took my place in the fourteen-year-old girls' line. I bet you probably thought I was older, like seventeen or eighteen. Well I'm not; I'm only fourteen, otherwise it might have been me in the 74th Hunger Games and not my sister. But after she died, I had to grow up fast, too fast, or be swept away by the rebellion.

All this ran through my head while the woman Peacekeeper behind the table took a drop of my blood and signed me in. I walked over and joined some of my friends in the roped off section for the fourteen-year-olds. We all gave each other nods and forced smiles. Today was not a day for jolly hellos and big hugs and smiles; today was a day for fear and nervousness. At approximately 12:00 the Capitol escort, Evania Glace, and the mayor of 5 stepped onto the stage. The mayor took his seat and Evania took her place at the podium.

"Welcome, welcome," she said in that ridiculous Capitol accent that always makes my head hurt. "Today is that wonderful day when we chose one brave young man and woman to compete in the Hunger Games and win honor and glory for their district!"

She said more, but I didn't pay attention to it. It was more of the same propaganda crap she says every year like how it's "an honor to be chosen and fight to the death for the pleasure of your overlords!" and blah, blah, blah.

I'm finally snapped back to reality when Evania trilled, "Ladies first!" and danced over to the reaping balls. She plunged her hand into the tiny slips of paper that determined the fate of all children between the ages of twelve and eighteen in Panem. As Evania's perfectly manicured fingers drifted through the slips of paper my heart began to pound like a drum inside my chest, and I found myself trying to calm down and thinking panicked thoughts.

_You're only in there eight times, Nina…_

_There are thousands of slips in there, Nina…_

_Oh, please, if there is any fairness in the world, please let it be someone else…_

_My parents need me…_

_Please don't be me…don't be me…_

_Not me…not me…anyone but me…just please not me…not me…not me…_

But it is me, and I'm not even surprised.

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**A/N: Sorry for the cliff hanger, but I really couldn't resist. I already have the next chapter started, so hopefully you won't have to wait long. But anyways, I need your help. I am trying to come up with names for the Tributes for these games. I already have a few, but I want everyone to have a name even if they die in the bloodbath :P So here's the list of people and please don't kill me when you read it, it's all part of my plan *smiles evilly and runs***

**LIST OF TRIBUTES: (girls on left, boys on right)**

**District 1: Savera Lapworth & Leonis Perthshire**

**District 2: Valeria Greenlaw & Atlas Spectral**

**District 3: Mizar Hayes & _**

**District 4: Argo Netmender & Balthar Edenthaw**

**District 5: Nina Aldjoy & Kin Selkirk**

**District 6: _ & _**

**District 7: Savera Wellwood & Alder Hollis**

**District 8: _ & _**

**District 9: _ & _**

**District 10: Katri Erwin & Skene Allardyce**

**District 11: Briar Whishart & _**

**District 12: Primrose Everdeen & Rory Hawthorne**

**District 13: Ashby Jardine & _**


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